Sociopath
by Princess Procrastination
Summary: I'm beginning to think that Sherlock Holmes has no emotion what-so-ever, but maybe that's for the best. Sherlock asks Watson to wait but Watson doesn't think he can. Semi one sided Watson/Sherlock.


This is my first Sherlock Holmes story and the first story without a hapy ending so i hope that you enjoy it. Oh and when Watson says he's leaving soon he's refering to his impending marriage.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

><p>"Now Watson," said Sherlock rubbing his hands, "we have half an hour to ourselves. Let us make good use of it."<p>

I blush bright red; all sort of indecent connotations of that sentence springing into my mind.

"My case is, as I have told you almost complete, but we must not err on the side of over confidence."

This calms me, of course Holmes was speaking of the case, he knew not of the feelings I harboured for him, much less indulged in them for me. Holmes thought as me as nothing more than an acquaintance and, at my most optimistic, a friend.

"Indeed." I reply absentmindedly.

"Watson..." he says placing a hand on the shoulder of the arm which held my cane. I glanced down, noting that my knuckles were turning white with the force upon I held the stick, and I made myself relax. Holmes also seeming to calm as the tension left my body, his hand merely resting on my shoulder rather than the concerned grip it had previously been.

"What's wrong, Watson? You seem out of sorts."

"Nothing is wrong." I reply rather harshly as I shook his hand from my shoulder, immediately missing its warmth.

"To feel nothing is impossible, my dear Watson, one cannot feel nothing at all."

I stand, "Thankfully Holmes we are not all like you and I for one am glad. For I mean it when I say I feel nothing."

On that note I left, two words plaguing my thoughts; for you. A lie I know all too well.

I stood in the hallway contemplating what I should do before deciding it would be best for the both of us if I just left the house. So climbing in the back of a Hanson cab I left. Occasionally I gave the driver directions. Hoping desperately I'd end somewhere, anywhere away from where he was.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"We're back where we started."

A laugh escapes my lips, a cold, bitter laugh. I'm always drawn close to him. Like a moth to flame if I get to close I'll get myself burnt.

"Carry on."

The driver lifts the reins of the reins of his horse to move just as Sherlock flies out of the door of our flat.

"Wait, Watson!"

I turn to see him reach to grab hold of the cab only to miss and fall.

"Stop!" I yell before throwing money at the driver and leaping out of the cab, "Holmes, are you okay?"

"I found it." He said completely ignoring my question.

"Never mind all that let's get you inside!"

I leant Holmes on my shoulder helping him in before setting him down on the bed.

"Where does it hurt?"

"Just my ankle probably twisted it... but that doesn't matter." He said waving me away.

"And why not?" I ask while still checking his ankle, before getting up and moving towards the door.

"Watson, are you even listening to me?"

"Yes, yes carry on." I wave a hand signalling him to continue. "Mrs Hudson can I get a wet cloth, please?"

"I'm your landlady not housekeeper."

"Please, Mrs Hudson. Sherlock's hurt himself again."

"I'm coming!"

I turn to Holmes, "Well go on. What is this marvellous thing you have happened upon?" I take the cloth from Mrs Hudson nodding a thanks.

"Your diary!"

I drop the cloth, "MY DIARY!" I scream.

"Why yes, I was looking through the books you had written to document my 'adventures' (as you call them), to find a reason for your recent upset, when I happened across a previously unknown/unfamiliar notebook. Inside was your name and an entry on the first page clearly stating that what I held in my hands was a journal and not a diary of any kind. Then it occurred to me I should not be going through your personal effects. "

"So you put it down?"

"Of course not, my dear chap, I read from the latest page backwards promising to stop at the centre, where upon I saw an entry on which you confessed to harbouring certain affections for me."

"You must be mistaken!"

"I am not you see here it says 'I fear my feelings for Sherlock have progressed far beyond friendship' I assume love. 'And I must keep up appearances of mere companionship.' Also in the next entry it clearly states here that you love me so much it hurts to look at me."

I look at Holmes' face unable to get angry at the man who had discovered my deepest secrets then read them out to me like a six year old at story time.

However my inability to get angry did not mean that I was unable to get annoyed.

"You annoying sociopath, I am sick to death of you," I say knowing I didn't really mean it, "In what world is it acceptable to read somebody's private thoughts."

"I can usually do it just by looking at them."

"I'm not interested in how you do it." Honestly getting angry now. "I'm telling you not do it."

"Does that mean you are no longer in love with me?"

"T-th-tha... ugh don't change the subject. Thank God that I am leaving soon and will have a more agreeable companion."

Holmes visibly shrank; I knew it was not because he slightest bit of regret he was merely upset that he hadn't anticipated my anger.

"Watson," he said in a small voice that I didn't even recognize as his, "Don't leave me."

"Holmes? I-"

"You don't know how happy I felt when I happened across that particular entry, usually other's feelings have no noticeable effect on me but this made me feel elated. Then before I knew it I was out of the house I couldn't even think of what I was doing."

"Which does not happen often, of course." I added sardonically.

Sherlock looked rather put off but continued anyway, "Of course!"

There was a long silence before I realized Sherlock had stopped talking, apparently he thought he had made his point but I remained oblivious to what it was.

"And…?"

"You don't get it?" Holmes asked looking at my blank face, "I ran out of the house and you there as if you were waiting for me, then you started to leave and my automatic reaction was to stop you at all costs."

"Why?" I asked mostly to him.

"I don't know exactly but…."

"That's not good enough! I'm not going to wait for an 'I don't know' I need a definite answer otherwise I can't stay."

"Then I love you, I mean I'm experiencing feelings that I have never felt before so the most logical conclusion is that I'm in love with you."

"Love has nothing to do with logic, it has to do with emotions, which I'm beginning to doubt you have."

Holmes looked at me his face clouded with emotions that I'd never seen on him before, the pure upset made my heart ache.

"Watson, please… wait for me."

I turned my head away, fighting back the urge to comfort him. Slowly I walked towards the door, opening it and taking one last look back before I left, "I don't think I can."

* * *

><p>Review to tell me if you think this sounds too unfinished to you. I wanted it to seem quite unfinished to let people think what think would happen next. Does Sherlock run after him or does Watson live unhappily ever after with Mary Morston.<p> 


End file.
